Grands Moulins

Marrakech - a labyrinth riddled with sensation overload in the most unique way. I have never seen such beautiful chaos in my life. While there with my mom in April, I had a day to myself and decided to walk with no goal in sight - I wanted to get lost. 

One vendor that grabbed my attention did so with no words - what he sold needed no introduction. His entire store, which was really just an expanded garage that led down an alley, boasted historical pieces of Moroccan history. As we chatted I noticed a feed sack, wrinkled and wrapped in a ball that was half stuffed under a broken chair. 

Oh the story it told! After a bit of research and help with translation, I came to find it was a grain feed sack from a local mill in Aït Melloul. With half in Arabic and half in French, it told a small story of how they have influenced the country even after independence in 1956. 

Right before we had agreed on a price, the call to prayer rang through the entire city, piercing each and every corner making sure no one was left behind. Immediately, he respectfully asked me to leave and closed up shop. Luckily, I was able to find him the next day (after passing the same spot many times) and walked away with another unique, textiled story. 

Unfortunately there was not enough fabric to make one piece, so I coupled it with a pure linen mix from an antique estate sale.